Querencia

Forgetting you is a feat I never could bear

Bellatrix Black Riddle had been alive on this Earth for too long.

She had watched, captivated as she stared at the mirror with each passing day as her face grew longer and her eyes grew smaller in comparison to the bags beneath them and her hair curled and its colour started to fade. She watched as she grew taller, her grin grew smaller and she changed, from the crazy little girl staring with curious eyes to the haggard and heartbroken woman with the tired face now in front of her.

Many would scoff at her thoughts now. Those older would scorn and grumble, mutter that she was still so young, so very young and she was closer in age to when she stepped foot on this Earth to when she would step off. Yet she still felt so old, so unworthy of being here any longer. How could she feel any different? When her brother, new-born and moments away from opening his eyes for the first time died before he could. When her cousin, Regulus, so young, so beautiful and so full of warmth, had lay in his coffin, his eyes glassy and his hands cold. To this day she wondered if he was shivering in the face of death and if the pain of dying had taken away any warmth he had possessed. (She often wondered if it would have been better if she took their place then shook the thoughts from her head as quickly as they came.)They deserved life, they deserved to live far longer than she had. They would have used the time to live a far better life than she had. They would have filled the Earth with their laughter instead of filling it with theirs tears, like she had. Like she was.

How could she bear to feel young when her daughter kicking and squirming in her stomach had died before taking her first breath. A miscarriage they told her. Nothing more. Oh...it was so much more to her. How could she bear to smile when her son, most likely never had a reason to. Lost they told her. Nothing more. Did they even know that lost more than often meant never found? How could she bear to live happily and safe when her children hadn't.

Her son was so young, his eyes should have sparkled and his smile should have been so wide. Yet from where she stood, his eyes were dull and his smile was small, too small. He may be young, but she knew he had never felt the achingly beautiful youth he should have. And that simple thought made her feel so old, so ungrateful that she had not enjoyed hers when she could have and so angry that she did not have enough to give to him.

She knew it was him before he had uttered his name.

'I'm Harry. Harry Potter. I'm so sorry for bumping into you ma'am. I should have paid attention to my surroundings.'

Ma'am. He should have never been the one to call her ma'am. Never should he have looked in her eyes and seen anything other than his mother. But now, as he stared, he could only see a stranger, the stranger who had so carelessly bumped into him.

"It's quite alright dear, accidents happen. I should have kept an eye out too. I'm Bellatrix. Bellatrix Black Riddle." She said, her voice so loud, so confident. How did she do it? How could she look at him and utter those words without a single tear. She held out her hand waiting, watching as he hesitantly shook it.

The action felt so formal. So wrong when done by those hands. They should have been embracing her. They should be the hands that wrap around her waist in a hug, not the hands that shake hers so stiffly.

"Well, let me help you, I've sent all your things flying." She laughed quietly, her voice ringing in her ears and watching as he nodded softly and reached out grabbing his books one by one. His movements were sluggish, as if he was tired and his body trembled as if fighting the cold. It was not cold, not as cold as last night. (As she watched him shiver, she wondered if the tremors running through his body were from fear or nerves because it was easier than wondering if someone had left him out-if someone had hurt him)